Harbingers of Change
by CountryGirl914
Summary: Nick's ordeal affected everyone. A very late post Grave Danger fic, focused on Ecklie with some GSR for good measure.


**A/N:** Better late than never, right? And God help me, but I seem to be fascinated with Ecklie--I have another story percolating that involves him. I guess it's because he's not such a two-dimensional villian anymore. Is this story AU? That all depends on your opinion of what stage the GSR is at. Up to you. ;-)

**Feedback:** Gets read over and over again and never fails to bring a smile to my face. Please review!

* * *

As the midnight sky started to lighten, Ecklie sat in his living room, glass of scotch in hand. It was amazing what could bring about change, realizations. It could be something small, like the case he was dragged into investigating last week. It had been the stupidest thing he'd ever had a part of investigating, and he'd had to endure the headache of a missing body. It had brought back all of his latent feelings of inadequacy and given Grissom a chance to needle him about the entire thing. And yet...when he'd closed the case, he'd felt an exhilaration that had been lost to him ever since he'd started pursuing the politics of the job over the science. Solving the puzzle, putting the pieces into place, giving the victims justice—that was why he'd started this job, and for the first time in ages he realized how much he missed it. As he left the lab that day, he'd pondered the possibility of going out in the field again. Maybe it was time for a change, to go back to the basics that had inspired him in the first place. 

And then there were the big things. His hand shaking slightly, Ecklie brought the glass up to his lips and drained half of the amber liquid, trying to calm his strained nerves. For over the past 24 hours the entire CSI lab had been frantically searching for Nick, trapped in a Plexiglas coffin by a madman. Nick, the southern gentleman with the Texas drawl, full of aw-shucks and naiveté even after years of living in Vegas, being stalked, and getting guns shoved in his face. When he had been on his mission to split up the night shift (he finally had to admit to himself that that was what it had been), Nick had been the only one he couldn't get any dirt on. Conrad found himself with reluctant admiration and respect for the man, and it had hit him like a punch to the gut when he first saw the live feed of the CSI, barely keeping it together in the glaring light. Things like that weren't supposed to happen to people like Nick. And so he had offered any and all help necessary to a surprised Grissom, and when things seemed to go from bad to worse, in a move completely unlike himself, Ecklie had offered to take the heat so the lab could pay the ransom. But his beloved politics laughed in his face, and the sheriff's lackey had brushed him off and coldly advised him to prepare his people for a funeral.

He didn't. He felt like punching the man, out of sheer frustration, but he didn't do that either. Instead he watched as the night and swing shifts raced to find Nick, feeling utterly in the way and out of the loop. And as he felt the frustration and despair in the building grow, he realized—it wouldn't be like this for him. Sure, they'd look for him, because it was their job, and Grissom's teams were nothing if not professional. But there would be none of this—no frantic rushing, no worried pacing. The thought, which he would have ignored and dismissed a few short weeks ago, now made him feel hollow and empty. When had his life come to this?

Finally, _finally_, the other CSI's figured out where Nick was, and practically the entire lab raced to the nursery to join in the search. And even his rescue was fraught with challenges, but soon—thank _God_—Nick was above ground again, moving. Breathing. _Living_. While the others swarmed around him, reassuring themselves that he was really alive, Conrad held back. What else could he do? He wasn't a part of this makeshift family—he hadn't even been a part of his own shift's—and it hurt as much as his earlier realization had. How much of his life _had_ he missed? He stood with the night shift, watching Catherine and Warrick climb into the ambulance, and when Grissom softly, exhaustedly demanded his fractured team back, Ecklie understood his isolation, and almost gave in on the spot.

They all raced after the ambulance to the hospital—even Ecklie, shocking Grissom and the others—and they stayed there until the doctors assured them that Nick would pull through, and that the best thing they could do was go home and get some rest. He walked out behind Grissom and Sara unnoticed, so when Grissom stopped Sara with a hand to her arm and turned her toward him, slowly raising his hand to caress her cheek, Conrad had an unobstructed view.

"Grissom?" Sara whispered haltingly, hope and sadness dueling in her voice.

Grissom's voice wavered as well. "I…I've always been so scared of what would happen if, if I ever…let you into my life. But now…life's too short to live in fear. I don't want to be so scared that I miss out on the best thing in my life."

Sara's eyes were shining, glistening like stars in the darkness, as she leaned forward and kissed him, resting her forehead against his when they finally broke apart. "I'll take you home," Grissom whispered. Sara smiled and nodded, then wrapped her arm around his waist as they disappeared into the night.

Ecklie stood still for a moment, absorbing what had just occurred. This was what he'd always wanted—proof of a relationship between the two CSI's, ammunition to bring Grissom down. And yet…all he felt like doing was congratulating Grissom on finally getting his head out of his ass. The constant need to one-up the night supervisor had somehow dissipated during Nick's ordeal. Ecklie shook himself out of his reverie and walked to his car. Grissom and Sara's secret was safe with him.

Conrad had been unable to sleep when he got home, the adrenaline still running through his system. Instead he had grabbed a bottle of scotch and a glass and made his way to the couch in the living room. It was now morning, the sun just beginning to make its presence known, but he had barely made a dent in his scotch, instead reliving the events and feelings of the day, turning them over and examining them like the scientist he was. Something had shifted, something started by the missing body case and thoroughly yanked into place by Nick's ordeal. He didn't like the direction in which his life was headed, or the man he had become. His power and authority at the office had been enough, but now…he understood Grissom's view on the subject. Their job was to find the missing, solve the puzzle, bring justice to the dead. Office politics had no part in that.

Ecklie turned his head on the sofa cushion until he was looking at the rising sun. It was still early; Meredith would probably still be at home. Meredith. His ex-wife. She'd been on his mind ever since he'd told the witness in his case that he was divorced. A lawyer in the DA's office, Meredith had been the love of his life—still was, really. But he'd abused her love, caring more about his stance at the office than her feelings, and finally one day he'd come home to an empty house. He hadn't let himself admit it, but the fact was he missed her every day. With Grissom's words in the hospital parking lot echoing through his head, he picked up the phone and dialed the familiar number.

"Hi Meredith…it's Conrad." He listened for a moment, then responded. "We found Nick—he's okay, physically, at least. We'll have to see about the rest later. His parents are with him." Everyone at the DA's office had worked with Nick at some point, and had been beside themselves with worry.

"How am I doing? I'm fine. I just…just wanted to talk to you. I've missed you, Meredith. I guess I was hoping that we could…go out to eat sometime, or something, and talk, if you'll let me. I have a lot of things I need to apologize for, and I don't think I should do it over the phone."

A few moments later, and the anxiety on his face disappeared as he let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Sunday…Sunday would be great."

Another pause, another reply. "Yes, some of this is from Nick, and some is from a case last week. I guess I'm just starting to look back at my life, and I'm not happy with where I am or what I've done…what I put first, before you. It's like what one of my coworkers said tonight…" Ecklie looked out at the start of the new day and smiled.

"Life's too short."

* * *

Fin 


End file.
